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Spotlight on Christine Jordan and her 30 for 30!

NAPOWRIMO - National Poetry Writing Month, 2021, the Los Angeles Poet Society shared a poetry prompt calendar for a poem a day, often referred to writing 30 for 30. 30 poems for 30 days in the month of April. Poet Christine Jordan took upon the challenge, creating an exquisite poetic collection,

We want to share her poems with you, and hope they inspire you to embark on our 2022 NAPOWRIMO Challenge!

Inspired by 2021 LAPS NAPOWRIMO Challenge:

Poems Du Jour by CE Jordan

bloom 4/14/21

I am beginning to bloom

And what is commonly called

A late bloomer in my case is

So late I would say I am more a

Transplanted shrub, blooming

Being a strange and distant memory

So let us all be the perennial

Bloomers, the right on time bloomers

The erratic bloomers, the evergreen

Buds and shoots, and not worry

About keeping any schedule at all

As long as we can witness our very

Coming to life coming to terms coming

By it accidentally or just coming to it

Graciously, as gracious as an old dog

succulent 4/15/21

If a meal is not succulent then it is dry

And unless you are traversing the South

West or trying for the perfect tan I do not

Think one strives for this state of mealiness

So why not juicy succulence, the great family

Of totally inedible plants called succulents?

Airy, blue and grey with their fiesta blooms loaded

With liquid, not cactus the canteen of the desert

But the houseplant cousin of Carmen Miranda’s

hyperactive hibiscus and headdress of fruit

I myself prefer the succulent salsa beat of the

Ricky and Lucy easy care echeverias and aloes

Bleeding sticky liquid and begging for more

typing 4/16/21

8th grade was when I learned to type

Yes on a typewriter and they call it word

Processing now, done on what is called

A laptop, see it is easy so easy that my mate

Who never learned to type can still do it with

Only two fingers so how did he type his papers?

I used my quick typing mom to finish my papers

In high school for me a bad night one night at

My dad’s job where the fastest typewriters

Lived it was better when I left home to pound away

On my own electric job, oh how did we do it before

All the endless keyboard shortcuts! I am back in

The 8th grade in a huge room with girls in full skirts

And straight skirts, knobby knees bent and fingers and

Thumbs pounding away to beat the quick brown fox

erasure 4/17/21


With respect to typing we correct the heck out of the

Outcome of flying fingers on soft pads these days

But reminiscing about mistakes let’s reflect on erasers

And white out and correcting tape and thank our lucky

Stars for tech advances! now my mom toughed it out on

Her Selectric when she wrote novels and their many

Revisions, many, all with the inconvenient paint and tape

Oh when she got a computer it was a no go, not even

Willing to lift her flying fingers from her rough keys, but

Then all her words were safely on paper, oh the days!


Things that get erased:

some of our feelings

certain memories

whole paragraphs with the slip of a tip of a finger

good recipes

bad events

wrinkles because we really are growing younger

rabid 4/18/21

Bitten by the bug dog raccoon

Taken by the swath of moon

Eaten by the mug of a swoon

Shaken by the flight of a balloon

Earthen is the sign of the loon

roots 4/19/21

Power the ways of the world

Nourish from the bottom up

Stabilize the ground we tread

Conduct the sap and juices

To give us air to breathe

As long as we get water

To their domain, the cellars

Of our earthly mansions, root

Cellars, root out, root for the home

Team, celebrate your roots, braids

The fancy parts of the roots of us

Thank you roots, thanks

chiseled 4/20/21

Beware of the swindler, the cheat and the con

He is crafty and ruthless and you are the pawn

Chipping away at the the truth and your dues

He will infinitesimally make off with the muse

And you are both richer and wiser and poorer

But more clever by sidestepping one more sure loser

grotesque 4/21/21

The living gargoyles we have

Raised and fed are roaming

Around again I do so love

The way they even sound off

But mostly how they sleep

Through it all in ways I can

Not do myself see the perch

And the nest of our creatures

The bath time at will so good

When you are so self-contained

Tongue to slobber and lick your

Smooth black fur I do so love our

Very soft and moveable Grotesques

breathless 4/22/21

Jimmy was very cute with thick, slick black hair and chiseled features, and I had the biggest crush on him. Plus, plus, the script called for Senor Columbus to kiss his Queen’s hand at the end of the play, like “yes your majesty, I will find the New World for you..“ smackeroo. Well, with everyone watching us two thespians rehearse, one room, everyone together, one teacher, this had to be a ‘group’ activity, and, well, it was pretty hard on my co-star with the rest of the 4th, 5th and 6th grade kids yelling “kiss her hand Jimmy! Kiss it!!” Yeah. He said he would kiss my hand in performance. Now, picture this: on the day of the play, all eyes on the two stars...he licked my hand instead of kissing it. Breathless to wet. Jimmy Columbus and the Kiss of Death. No one knew but us two and we never told. I had my dignity.

signature 4/23/21

So many in Shakespeare’s day could neither

Read nor write, an X was their signature

Not really a signature but a mark really

Sufficient to indicate compliance or con

Firmation of an event or a transaction

Our man could certainly use a pen by candle

Light time stolen here and there, true signings

To create a gentleman and scholar, father and

Colleague and sometime reluctant husband but

Who knows? Our man may even be a stand-in for

An unknown playwright write write write write


May the muse greet each and every one of you! Write on - just stay true to your voice, your vision, and express yourself.

About Christine Jordan

Having ‘discovered’ poetry in 1982, Ms Jordan found it a ready and natural outlet for her creativity. It has been a constant thread, a life-saver, during her hectic life in the performing arts, teaching, dancing, modeling and directing. She is proud to have been a featured poet at Beyond Baroque in 2011, and had her poetry published in Rivertalk and Blue Satellite locally, and Armchair Shotgun out of Brooklyn, NY. among others. She toured her solo poetry performance piece, The Ojai Show, notes on a country childhood, throughout 2010 to much acclaim, a work based on her collection of 23 poems called ‘Fragile Borders’ about a charmed childhood full of imaginative wonders on a ranch in the Upper Ojai Valley in the late 50’s. She is currently a landscape designer by day, poet by night (and day!) A California native, the desert is surely part of her landscape!


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